One Poem by Amy Brunvand

Can Opener

As soon as cans had been invented
Can openers appeared,

A new blade on pocket knives
Hooked like a talon

To pierce through thin metal
Leaving jagged teeth.

Now we had a tool to release
Canned laughter,

We could open a can of worms
Any time we wanted,

Pack ourselves in like sardines,
Insult tin-can cars,

Kick the can down the road,
It was wonderful

While it lasted, the sheer pleasure
Of opening tuna

To mix with tangy mayonnaise!
The joy of condensed soup

Like Andy Warhol ate
Every day for twenty years,

So salty, red and good
He silkscreened cans on canvas!

It doesn’t amount to a can of beans
Anymore, of course,

We’ve moved on to sous vide
Postmodernist cuisine

But back then Spam-in-a-Can
Meant sending a man to the moon and back again.